Stranger Things one shots

Touched for the Very First Time (Eddie x Reader)

a/n: I had this idea and I went with it. Might not be entirely era accurate, but we're not here for a history lesson, are we? Also, here, Eddie has much more tattoos. (Also, I am actually obsessed with tattooist!Eddie so if anyone wants more of him... just let me know) Also, fic uses flashbacks (large italicised parts)

summary: an AU in which, after his first failed attempt to graduate, Eddie drops out of school to follow an apprenticeship at a tattoo parlour. 3 years go by and you stumble into that same studio, unlocking some lost memories.

word count: 8.3k

warnings: swearing, drinking, smoking (weed and cigs), tattoo gun needles-- pain, making out while high, high school drama, and generally semi-melodramatic, but in a fun way. 

Best believe that needle won't hurt you. Best to see these true colours, than to follow one of your false virtues. 

- Tattoo, Van Halen

You knew exactly what you were doing, your mind was set in stone, yet when you saw the slightly dilapidated black sign in front of you, your heart leapt up to your throat. This was it. Only a few steps away, and then there was no going back. You wouldn't let yourself run away. Not this time. You had run away from things for way too long, and today was the day when you would finally take a risk.

The letters creating Black Skull Ink called to you. The little voice in your head telling you to turn around had been completely shut off as you told yourself to keep walking, one foot in front of the other. Don't forget to breathe.

There was no bell above the door as you opened it, and the place looked just like the outside, rundown and... you didn't really want to think about what else it reminded you of. Large sheets with tattoo designs covered the walls, combined with other images that you assumed the artists working there had drawn. The light was surprisingly bright, focusing on the front desk, behind which was a station set up with something that looked very similar to a chair you've undoubtedly seen at your dentist's appointments.

Behind that front desk, a man was seated, drumming his pencil to the beat of the music that was playing loudly. He looked up at the movement at the door, halting whatever he was doing to talk to you, but not before leaning over to the sound system and putting the volume down to a more reasonable level.

'How can I help you, sweetheart?' he asked when you made eye contact, and you froze. For one, the nickname startled you for a moment, especially as you took the image of the man in. A pair of big brown doe eyes, eyeliner smudged around it. He looked you up and down, more out of curiousness and awaiting an answer to his question than anything. His long dark hair was pushed back, a black and white bandana keeping it in place, out of his face. He was wearing a black t-shirt, on it a logo of a band you didn't really know, and he covered it with red flannel, sleeves rolled up to reveal the countless tattoos on his arms. He had pulled out a cigarette from between his lips to ask you the question you still had not answered.

Secondly, as you looked into those brown eyes of his, you felt as if you had looked into them before... a long time ago. It was like a vague and blurry memory you weren't even sure existed.

'Well?' he nudged you on to speak.

'Oh, uhm, I want a tattoo.' You said, your voice suddenly much weaker; it was coming closer and closer to the point of no return. The guy smiled at your response, putting his cigarette out in an ashtray on the table. You kept looking at him, unable to push away the feeling that there was something very familiar about him. Like you had seen this stranger before– and not in the "its a small town, everyone knows everyone" way.